


The Future is Fluid

by NoContractTermination



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Canon Compliant, Confessions, Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, Fluff, Getting Together, Insecurity, M/M, OT3, Pet Names, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations, Porn With Plot, Rimming, Threesome - M/M/M, Topping from the Bottom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-15
Updated: 2018-08-15
Packaged: 2019-06-27 22:44:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15694851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NoContractTermination/pseuds/NoContractTermination
Summary: Ten and Taeil have the relationship everyone wants but no one knows about. When Taeyong confesses to Taeil in spite of this, the three of them learn to renegotiate and test the strength of what was once thought to be immutable.





	The Future is Fluid

**Author's Note:**

> \- Ten/Taeil is the main pairing in this.  
> \- Taeyong/Taeil is secondary, and there is not that much Taeyong/Ten. Sorry if that was what you were looking for!  
> \- Enjoy!

The proposal Ten was making was crazy in that thrilling way that always made Taeil’s stomach jump all the way up into his throat.

“So you’re saying he confessed to you,” Ten said flatly, and Taeil nodded with a dismayed face. Ten wasn’t possessive most of the time, but it was hard not to be when the perpetrator was Taeyong. “He didn't— we’re not _that_ secretive about our relationship, are we?” continued Ten, tilting his head in thought.

Taeil shrugged, twisting his earring absently, his feet settled on Ten’s lap scrunched into little croissant shapes.

“I told you to stop doing that! They’re gonna get infected,” Ten scolded, leaning over to bat Taeil’s hands away, and Taeil made a displeased noise. Ten parroted him with sibling-like petulance.

“I mean, Taeyong hasn’t been around a lot lately...?” Taeil offered weakly, and Ten shrugged.

“Neither have I, and I can still pick up on the fact that Doyoung and Jaehyun have been fucking again.”

Taeil broke into a coughing fit, and Ten’s face brightened into a playful grin. Okay, but Doyoung and Jaehyun were not at all subtle despite their desperate attempts to be. In fact, the more they tried to hide it, the more blatant their petty little fights seemed to get.

Besides, Taeyong's absence was both physical and emotional. When he was there, he wasn’t really there; it was easy to tell his mind wasn't present. Maybe it was partially due to this confession, this feeling, the thing that had been bothering him, because when he had something on his mind he had a hard time concentrating on anything else. Everyone in the dorm had taken turns trying their best to pry it out of him, but the more they prodded, the more he clammed up until he started avoiding the dorms intentionally.

“Did we say something wrong?” Yuta had said one evening earlier than month, pointedly staring at Doyoung when Taeyong left for a “walk” immediately after finishing dinner in record time and failing to even put his own dish in the sink. Taeyong usually helped with the dishes when he could or at least directed the rest of them around when they were fumbling about the kitchen after practice, but that day the dining table was a mess and no one had wiped down the stove for a week.

Doyoung’s hands shot up defensively. “It wasn’t me this time, I swear. I know as little as you guys do about what the hell this jackass is doing.”

This time, Taeyong kind of deserved the insult. He only been attending dance practices with Ten for _Baby Don’t Stop_ , and it wasn’t that anyone doubted his skills, but without his stable presence, group formations got all screwed up and no one else could practice properly either. Taeyong’s usual intensity was calming. It was like he bunched up all the excess energy in the room and funneled it into fluid motion. He knew they needed him and skipped practice anyway, or went through the motions without saying anything or really participating for the entire few hours they were all together. Mark filled in as much as he could for the Dream members, and Taeil couldn’t help but feel the weight of obligation fall onto him as the eldest, even though he didn’t know the first thing about dance.

It felt... bad. Not only was leading a group of 18 way more than Taeil could handle, it somehow felt unfair that he’d unknowingly let Taeyong handle all of this alone for the past few years and had never really done anything to ease the pressure or offer a word of thanks. He'd instead pushed it to the back of his mind in order to deal with all the other imaginary bullshit his godforsaken brain got up to.

And after Taeyong dumped this train wreck of a confession on Taeil, Taeil's response was to only really felt sorry for himself. Taeyong shouldn’t have put the whole group through these rough past few weeks for someone like Taeil, and somehow, that too felt like Taeil’s own fault. He’d frozen and scurried out of the room after a long, shocked pause, because that was all he really knew how to do in times of panic. It just felt too goddamn miserable to look for that mindset where he had the strength to tell Taeyong no, but he obviously couldn’t just tell Taeyong that everything would be fine, either.

Fortunately, Doyoung was the one who saw Taeil’s feet padding through the hallways so fast that he was almost slipping over at every corner. He knew not to ask anything of Taeil himself, so he called Ten, who had been in another dorm at the time. And here they were now, the deep of night settling upon them after having stumbled through an awkward conversation of mostly Ten putting his forehead against Taeil’s and telling him he wasn’t going away until Taeil told him what Doyoung called him here for.

“I mean, he’s attractive,” Ten said with a shrug, and Taeil curled in on himself. “Otherwise I wouldn’t be so worked up about it. You know, if it were Johnny or something. Not that Johnny isn’t hot, but you know.”

Taeil knew. Johnny had been more or less pursuing Taeil for ages, to the point where no one really batted an eyelash at it anymore. And Johnny wasn’t Taeil’s type.

But Taeyong was— and was marketed as— such a perfect foil to Ten. It was natural for Ten to be shaken by this. Taeil should’ve been more firm about rejecting Taeyong, but he couldn’t. There was something about the tired, hopeful look in Taeyong’s eyes, or maybe it was something wrong with Taeil; after all, he couldn’t even properly tell _Johnny_ to back off. Ten and Taeil's smooth-sailing relationship hinged on Ten’s absolute faith in him, and only a person like Ten— solid, grounded, relatively free of insecurities— could hold that stasis.

Taeyong, on the other hand, sweet, brittle Taeyong, the man who didn't break often, but when he did, he broke hard... Taeil couldn’t do it. He absolutely, positively could not. So, as Taeyong waited for an answer, Taeil had stood there like an absolute oaf, paralyzed with fear.

In all honesty, hope was a mistress much crueler than rejection. Looking back on the events of that afternoon, Taeil had just let hope loose on Taeyong because Taeil wasn’t enough of a person to let him down gently, if at all. And, even worse, Taeil had come running to Ten himself of all people for answers to a problem Ten hadn’t even asked to be dragged into.

Ten’s fingers winding into Taeil’s hair snapped him out of his mind in a motion that was surprisingly slow and gentle for how effective it was. “What are you thinking about, _hyung_?” Ten said softly.

Taeil blinked, feeling like he’d just woken up even though his eyes had been open the whole time. They just weren't ready for a face full of Ten yet. Taeil took a deep breath, and Ten nodded subconsciously, following the rise and fall of Taeil’s shoulders. “How I— I can’t believe I dragged you into all of this,” he said with a strained laugh. Ten had seen through thousands of those already and wasn’t letting this one get past him. Taeil surrendered to Ten’s gaze once again and looked down at his own hands. “I mean— I should be able to figure something like this out myself, right?”

Ten shook his head emphatically, like a kid. With how mature he was, his motions and gestures sometimes revealed the other side of his heart: the airy side, like wind butting up against a solid cliff. “Anything you can’t do, you can’t do,” said Ten. Taeil laughed, and Ten pursed his lips in mock frustration and thumped his hands down on Taeil’s shoulders. His arms were light but his grip was firm. “I mean, I’m here for you. I want to be here for you.”

Taeil put his hand gently over Ten’s and rubbed his thumb across the top. They’d been dating for a few months now, Ten having pulled Taeil into his orbit as he so effortlessly did. There were a lot of things they didn’t talk about, not because they didn’t want to but simply didn’t have the time, like why Ten even started liking Taeil in the first place.

They’d been sharing a hotel room during one of the group tours, and Ten just walked over after a dance practice he’d had with Taeyong, actually. Taeil was still blearily waking up from a mid-morning nap, and when Ten loomed over him, sweaty and panting, Taeil had mistaken the real Ten for a particularly vivid wet dream. “God, you’re so hot,” Taeil murmured because fuck it, except it hadn’t been a dream, and Ten's expression had morphed into a very real smirk, and Ten kissed him square on the lips, which, by the way, had felt too electrifying to be anything less than real.

They didn’t get to see each other often. At least, not compared to the amount of time Taeil spent with the members of 127. Most of the dry spells were spent sexting. Ten initiated that one, too, texting Taeil one night while Taeil had been just about to fall asleep and was this close to dropping his phone on his face; _i really wanna fuck you right now._

Taeil’s eyes shot open at that. _You’re in Ukraine_ , he replied, and Ten told him that he knew, and he missed him. And it all culminated in a flustered Taeil rushing to Jaehyun and Mark’s empty room, apologizing profusely to the spirits for defiling the place, and fingering himself while whining and panting into the handset while Ten encouraged him with not so modest grunts and moans of his own.

“Go to sleep,” Ten had said tenderly after finishing himself off with a loud moan that brought a flush to Taeil’s cheeks.

“Gotta... clean up first,” Taeil breathed, trying to stand up on shaky legs to tissue off any evidence after literally fingering himself on the floor of Jaehyun’s room.

“You— you were actually...?” said Ten, humming high and surprised but not disapproving.

“Yes?” Taeil breathed. “Was I not supposed to?”

Ten groaned. “Fuck, _hyung_ — no, I— _god_ , no, keep doing exactly what you’re doing.”

Taeil laughed and brought the whole tissue box from the nightstand down onto the floor with him with a loud _thump_. “Shit,” he hissed and laughed a little again.

“Careful,” said Ten with a giggle. “Someone might hear you.” Taeil was quiet for a moment until Ten said, “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“Oh, be quiet,” Taeil quipped. He could just about hear the smirk in Ten’s voice, and he grinned. “I’m tired. We’re done for tonight.”

“I know, babe,” said Ten, breathing into the receiver quietly as Taeil cleaned up the area around him. “I miss you.”

“It’s been like two days,” Taeil said, but Ten was right.

“No, I miss you,” said Ten again, and Taeil sighed.

“I know.” He missed being around Ten, or rather, having Ten around. They had to finagle ways to spend time together alone, and being polar opposites in some ways didn’t help because it drew attention from members who weren’t really around that much, didn’t know they were close, and wondered why Ten would wander into the kitchen as Taeil helped with the dishes and sneak little kisses against the back of Taeil’s neck when Taeyong turned away. The kitchen was far too small for three people but still Ten lingered, and Taeil couldn’t even be mad because he wanted it, too.

Taeyong was an intuitive person; he must’ve known. There was no way he couldn’t have, unless some subconscious part of his brain was trying to protect him from the hurt by making him willfully oblivious to the breezy, awkward, desperate little dance Ten and Taeil did around each other as they navigated this jungle of relationships. It was in some ways vivid and colorful and beautiful but simultaneously one of the most dangerous spaces on earth.

Taeyong had fallen. He’d stumbled right in, lured by the lie of modern romance, and got tangled in the brush Ten and Taeil couldn’t help but weave in their complicated little way of living. The toxic pollen of love. The venomous illusion of something lasting and pure and hopeful. What Ten and Taeil had wasn’t far from that. Taeyong had just wanted to see the pretty birds from under the canopy. Taeil couldn’t possibly turn him down.

“You don’t have to be alone,” Ten was saying.

“I know I’m not,” Taeil replied, glancing up at Ten. “But I don’t know why.” _I don't know why you stick around for me_ was what went unspoken.

“That doesn’t matter,” Ten said. “I could give you a hundred reasons, but you won’t listen.”

Taeil laughed softly, curling his legs up to his chest, and Ten swept an arm around Taeil’s shoulders. “You’re right,” said Taeil, and Ten smiled smugly, his lips pressed against Taeil’s temple.

Silences between them were comfortable, like they had all the time in the world when it was actually the opposite. Something about Ten’s demeanor, though, made it seem like time stopped when he was at peace, and Taeil usually lingered close enough to pick up the remnants of that magical energy.

After a beat, Ten took a breath deep enough for Taeil to feel Ten’s shoulders and chest rise. “I don’t know, but,” Ten said quietly, his voice a little hesitant, “I’m open to... trying things.”

Ten was like the earth Taeil stood on. He seemed to control its very cadence. When he was grounded, nothing felt more real than that very moment. When he was uncertain, on the other hand, the ground and the atmosphere and life itself seemed to shake and spin like a teacup ride. Most of the time he was somewhere between these two extremes, and Taeil had learned to parse the geography of Ten’s existence. Like a cartographer, Taeil felt for the echoes of Ten's mind quakes like lines on a map.

Ten's hesitance, whatever for, frightened Taeil, but it was also his duty to fill in that space for Ten, just as Ten did for him.

“What do you mean?” Taeil chose to say, moving to lean on Ten’s shoulder. Taeil's touch seemed to calm Ten a bit, and Taeil let his own eyes close in rest. Just another collision in the ebb and flow of human interactions. Little waves that caused his heart to race, and valleys that brought everything into focus again. 

“Well,” Ten continued, letting out a breath as if with renewed confidence after having put it— whatever it was— on the table. “What... what does Taeyong want?”

Taeil was not built for this level of hyper-vigilance, and no matter how hard he trained it into himself, it would never come naturally. Recovering from the rollercoaster of emotions that came with any deviation from the natural path was a week-long endeavor. With Ten’s help, they could probably reduce it to a few days. But knowing that he had to get up tomorrow and face Taeyong again as if nothing happened (or worse: give Taeyong a definitive answer when anything even conceptual was still miles away) felt like a doomed effort. And it was getting to that point in the night where the brain meat was running out of steam and all Taeil wanted to do was giggle maniacally. 

Relief felt ticklish. It was the euphoric high after giving up and accepting the circumstances. Ten was there for him, not that it needed confirming. It was just hard to remember sometimes. Ten’s physical absence didn’t help, but when he was there, which was still quite often given the circumstances, he was really _there_ ; he was in it with Taeil, he was wrapped up in him, and they were tangled together inextricably, stumbling together through the overgrowth.

“I don’t know,” Taeil said, giggling when Ten tickled his forehead with his lips. When Ten grabbed his shoulders, he squeaked and lost his balance, toppling over until they were a tangle of arms and legs on the bed, Taeil reflexively wrapping his legs around Ten’s waist and grasping onto him for dear life. Ten, who was not very strong, thus fell face first into Taeil’s chest, puffing out breathless laughs into Taeil’s sweater.

When Ten finally caught his breath, he looked up at Taeil, resting his chin on Taeil’s chest. “Here, how about we find that out first? Then we’ll talk again, yeah?” he said, and Taeil nodded, looking directly into Ten’s eyes. Something about the way Ten said _we_ made it sound doable. That confidence would probably fade by the next morning. But right here, right now, it felt like Taeil could accomplish just about anything with Ten at his side.

Ten was invincibility, and he knew it. That was why he knew to turn up at times like these, when calming Taeil down was a thankless task. But Ten always knew how. Enough of it was his presence alone: his hands on Taeil’s waist, his forehead pressed against Taeil’s, his arm around Taeil’s shoulder. And the rest of it was so inexplicable that Taeil wouldn’t even know what to ask for from anyone else.

“Okay,” Taeil breathed, his eyes closing again despite his continued attempts to blink them open. Ten saw this and laughed, stroking his hand down the back of Taeil’s hair.

—

Taeyong woke Taeil up by staring daggers into him all the way from the kitchen the next morning.

Ten had left super-early for dance practice, and Taeil had been so exhausted the previous night that he didn't even notice when Yuta and Sicheng returned to the room at some point. Instead, it was the heat of insistent eyeballs that startled Taeil from his rest. Call it remarkable, but he woke up in a cold sweat, last night fading like a weird fever dream in comparison to the weight of Taeyong's stare, penetrating sky and sound and matter itself, diving straight into Taeil's conscience at 5:43AM. The heat all over Taeil's skin was both frightful and infuriating. It made him flush with the burn of attention.

Taeil had only had one or two crushes in his life before, but he still remembered the exact day of the week he’d found fanfiction of Johnny and Ten online last year. It was a laughing point now, but he’d been hung up over it then. He’d been so naive. Never told Ten about it until later when they were all drinking and Yuta brought up wanting to visit the Han river again because he’d read a fanfiction about him and another member going. Two drinks later he’d revealed it was Taeyong, who performed a pretty convincing good-natured-laugh. Ten could tell something was bothering Taeil that night, and later, Taeil had asked suddenly, “Would you cheat on me with Johnny?”

Ten only hesitated for a moment, staring at Taeil more trying to read why he'd asked than thinking about the question itself. When he couldn’t get anything out of Taeil, he brushed the back of Taeil’s hair with his hand. “ _Hyung_ , you know I’m allergic to straight people.”

Taeil pressed on, poking his fingers into Ten’s chest gently. “But what if he’s bisexual?” 

“Baby, the point is—" Ten started, then furrowed his eyebrows knowingly. "This is about the fanfiction thing, isn’t it?” 

Taeil ducked his head, staring at Ten’s chest to avoid meeting his gaze. “It’s stupid,” mumbled Taeil.

“It is,” said Ten. Taeil squeezed his eyes shut. Ten always noticed; he noticed a lot of things, and he sighed and brushed Taeil’s fringe aside. “I mean, come on. Me and Johnny? Really?” Taeil sniffed a little, and Ten continued, “You know how I feel about you. And I’m pretty sure Johnny would rather die than do anything to hurt you.”

Ten wasn’t wrong. Johnny had a weirdly affectionate streak and at the center of it was one Moon Taeil. If anything, Ten was the one who should’ve been jealous, but Ten... well, Ten was as grounded as he was effervescent. He was sure of himself in a way that begot brilliance. He was a dancer, a performer, and an artist, but not of tragedy. Within Ten was the warmth of endless trust.

“What are you thinking about?” Ten had said slowly, ducking as well to look into Taeil’s eyes.

“I wish I could be more like you,” Taeil replied.

At least at that point he’d already moved past his bad habit of pretending nothing was wrong. That was the path of least resistance and one he would’ve taken with some of the other members, but Ten made him feel safe. It wasn’t just the aftercare or the way he cooed at the sight of Taeil in oversized sweaters; his very body language, the way he drew you in like a pond draws water from a river, seemed to welcome Taeil’s every insecurity. There was something noble about the way he used that knowledge against Taeil, too, like he goaded and teased Taeil into being a better person or even just better to himself, calmer, less self-effacing.

Ten took a moment to think about this, as he should. Part of his mannerisms always seemed to know the right time to pause or when not to say anything at all; there was no silence they felt obligated to fill. The pause itself was an object, tactile as an assertion. “For what it’s worth,” Ten said quietly, “I wouldn’t like you as me. I mean, I like me, but... I like you as you.”

This was the line that Ten kept repeating in various ways throughout the next few months, whether it was through text or call or helping Taeil pick out outfits through pictures sent back and forth on iMessage in the morning or checking up on him after practice or knowing his coffee orders or never planning dates too long because Ten knew he hated public restrooms, that kept Taeil upright. This was the line that let Ten attach himself to Taeil like a harness to help him scramble toward a better future. This was the line that Taeil kept repeating to himself as he glared at his plate that morning, waiting for the inevitable and willing himself to stand his ground against his leader.

“I think Taeyong wants something,” Mark said stupidly after an awkward, silent breakfast between the two of them where Taeyong, in his absence, managed to be the most present one there. Taeil could feel him in the kitchen facing the wall, a brooding, melodramatic shadow falling over his face.

This confession was Taeyong shirking from responsibility; that was what was so frustrating. It was like he threw something big and gross on the table and was now claiming it was Taeil's fault when Taeil had never asked to participate in this petty game of hot potato in the first place. Who did Taeyong think he was? He couldn’t just waltz in here and shatter the equilibrium the nine— no, eighteen of them had all labored so hard to build these past few years and then put it on Taeil to make the next move, as if Taeil had been arbitrarily picked out of a hat.

It wasn’t fair, because the subject matter wasn’t arbitrary. Love was not arbitrary. Being in an arduous, fulfilling, tumultuous, loving relationship with Ten was enough to teach Taeil how un-arbitrary it really was, but Taeyong was treating this like some silly child’s game.

Initiating was hard, to be fair. That was something Taeil usually left to Ten, and one thing he so appreciated Ten taking on when, to Ten, it was just another task of everyday life. Left to their own devices, people like Taeyong and Taeil would just skitter around each other until they met at an impasse that threatened to boil over. Could they ever make this work? Would a life of these hardships be worth whatever Taeyong had to offer him? What did Taeyong have, besides his beauty and talent and kindness and warmth and willful, saturated, intense love that once withdrawn would leave a hole in your heart so vast it would make you wish he’d never loved in the first place?

In an alternate universe, Taeil had never confessed to Ten. Taeyong had gotten to Taeil first. That was where this theoretical, perfect version of Taeyong existed, where Taeyong and Taeil would’ve played out a love that could’ve been rewarding or could’ve been volatile; could’ve been filled with satisfaction or could’ve taken more than it gave.

But that was there, and this was now. There was no Taeyong like that now. There was no Taeyong-and-Taeil without Ten; there was no extracting Ten from Taeil’s life. There was no letting him go. So whatever hypothetically painful but nurturing but turbulent but thrilling futures Taeil could imagine with Taeyong were irrelevant, because Ten existed.

Still, Taeyong occupied a comfortable space in Taeil’s mind. He nestled there and wasn’t budging, and he made the surroundings surprisingly warm, too.

Mark was looking at Taeil, characteristically anxious. They were the only ones awake in the dorm that morning, and Mark had every excuse to leave. Something always anchored him to Taeil, though, like a filial son.

“I’ll talk to him,” Taeil said softly, and Mark’s shoulders deflated in relief.

Taeil walked into the kitchen with the full intention of telling Taeyong to back off, but when he opened his mouth and looked up at Taeyong’s face out of reflex, nothing but a peaceful puff of air came out. Taeil’s body had a thing for betraying him at the most inopportune moments.

Taeyong started right away by croaking out with much difficulty, “I want...,” and then trailed off. Taeil’s breath caught in his throat half out of surprise and half from nerves. Taeyong was looking determined but also panicked in a way, like a cornered animal in the wild.

“I—“ Taeil stuttered. Taeyong’s head jerked up to look at him. “... I’m sorry?”

“ _No_ ,” Taeyong said. Taeil flinched. Taeyong sounded a lot surer when he continued, “Don’t apologize before you give me a real answer.”

“I’m not leaving Ten,” Taeil replied in a hard voice. That, at least, was decisive.

“I know,” said Taeyong.

Taeil sighed. This was the worst possible result: this was what he had been afraid of. Taeyong knew. Taeyong was entirely cognizant of what he was doing, the evil he was enacting. This wasn't just some oblivious misunderstanding.

If Taeyong hadn't known at all about Ten and Taeil’s relationship, dealing with it would've been easy. It was predictable. It would all be a matter of lack of communication, and Taeyong would balk at breaking apart an established couple. He didn't have it in him to do that. He'd eventually be forced to get over himself.

This was how it was supposed to go, with the hurt and the fights; Taeyong could own his share of the darkness. It could all be sequestered into the dark corner of this godforsaken group that was Lee Taeyong’s heart. It could be _his_ misunderstanding, _his_ problem. He was good at this kind of stuff.

But instead, he knew. He knew and he chose, like a crown prince, entitled to happiness, to let his optimism get the better of him.

This was uncharacteristic of him. Under that reckless, intimidating exterior, there was someone deliberate enough to be a leader. Taeyong was an anomaly of intention; he did things with purpose. The fact that this helpless feeling called _love_ had haunted him so long, long enough for him to form deep rational thought about it, and that he chose the option to pursue it anyway, like a well bubbling over, was frightening. He had either found some way to temper it or he could no longer physically tolerate holding it in, and it was much more likely to be the latter.

Taeyong could tolerate a lot of things, so that Taeil was not one of them, even in this sense, was frightening. The uncertainty of it was frightening. Taeyong did not make decisions that were doomed from the start to fail. He didn't pursue things if no one had anything to gain. But a reckless, desperate Taeyong unleashed upon the world could become unpredictable. And no one had ever seen the extent of that before.

“H-how long?” Taeil rasped because he had nothing else to say. "How long have you known?"

Taeyong shrugged. “A few weeks. Or months, maybe. Shit, has it been that long already?”

“How could you— _months_?! Give me a— at least explain yourself, Taeyong,” Taeil demanded bitterly, his voice rising. Taeyong was cycling between hauling intense, foreboding waves of emotion onto Taeil and treating this all like some impulsively drawn lottery ticket. The whiplash was infuriating.

“Shit, I just—“ Taeyong was saying, scrunching his eyes shut and rubbing his temples. He flinched visibly when he met Taeil's gaze; his posture tightened like a bow, his shoulders pointing out to the sides with the refrigerator and the stove flanking him like executioners. “You and Ten, it didn’t matter to— I mean, not like that; it _mattered_ , but— I mean I’m happy for you, I _was_ happy for you, or I still am,” Taeyong continued, floundering. He threw back his head until it hit the wall loudly, and he stared at the ceiling with the hard gaze he wore when he needed to give a lecture he didn’t want to give. “This isn’t coming out right.”

“It never does,” Taeil replied, looking away. “How could you— how could you know about us and yet,” he murmured, then he gritted his teeth. Inside was a ball of feelings that were too hard to confront, tangled up in a million tight little knots that continually wove themselves into deeper, bigger knots. “Now, _I_ have to choose? How dare you?” Taeil pressed desperately. His voice came out weak— small, like the sound of dew.

“I—“ said Taeyong, trying to respond with something.

It couldn’t really be all Taeyong’s fault, right? He couldn't have stopped the tidal wave. He couldn't even have been aware it was happening until it was too late. It wasn’t really anyone’s _fault_ that feelings developed in a messy, convoluted way that seemed out to make chaotic everything that was once safe and steady.

But it was hard to swallow that the fault belonged to no one; it felt displaced. It was pent up energy. This was all because Taeyong had to kick his feelings across the table to Taeil, where they didn’t belong. Now, it was on Taeil to be the bad guy, to say no, to be the one to pull the punch and reject a lonesome, wilting man. Now, Taeyong had someone to blame when he bottled up the hurt. It would’ve been fine if they never had to see each other again; that was how so many relationships worked in the outside world. People burned bridges and moved to different cities, switched jobs and changed their names to process what couldn’t-have-been and accept what was-to-be.

But this wasn’t the outside world. This wasn’t real. This was SM, where the bridge would never light. No matter how bitter a fight they got into, no matter how unbearably painful the feelings got, they’d have to wake up and see each other again the next morning. There was no placing irrational blame on some imaginary antagonist to avoid having to take responsibility, because in being almost not real, everything at SM was too glaringly real. The antagonist was there, they weren't even really an antagonist, just a regular person like everyone else, and you had to consolidate the fact that it wasn't always someone's fault.

“I— I can’t do this for you," said Taeil, finally. "And I’m sorry."

Taeyong looked down. He knew: he knew what he'd done to Taeil. He could read between the lines better than listen to what was actually said; with Taeyong, it seemed like half of all communication was through body language, pointed looks, and facial expressions. And he had finally come to understand how painful this was for Taeil, who was supposed to be the one who was treasured, who had it all. “You...” Taeyong started, then shook his head resignedly. “I mean... me too.”

“What?” said Taeil.

“I’m sorry too,” Taeyong explained, glowing coolly against the off-white walls of the kitchen. He felt distant. “You don’t have to do... anything. You don’t have to do anything you don't want to.”

“Then what do you want from me?” Taeil demanded. “Why would you— you didn’t have to tell me if you didn’t want anything. That just makes me—“

“I want you both,” said Taeyong, cutting in.

Oh.

 

_Both_.

Like peanut butter and jelly, or salad and soup. Having a cake, and eating it too.

As Taeyong took a wobbly breath in, held it for a moment, and released it steady, you could literally see the composure he gathered. When he looked up, he still had the same tight posture he'd held this entire time, but his eyes were wild. If Taeil were close enough, he reckoned he'd be able to see into them.

Taeyong took a bold step forward, and it took everything Taeil had not to bolt right out of there at that very moment.

_Both_ was such a loaded word. It could imply anything: it could mean that Taeyong was demanding too much, which, of course he was. Or it could mean he was conceding, or doing them some sort of favor by making such a brazen request. And the thing was, some part of Taeil, like a flicker in the black of night, wanted to make it work, too.

“What?” Taeil said uselessly.

“Look, I get that you’re a package deal,” Taeyong said, and Taeil blanched. “I love you, _hyung_ ,” he continued, taking another step forward. This time, Taeil couldn’t move even if he wanted to. He should’ve escaped when he had the chance, but now something hard and hopeful in Taeyong’s gaze was rooting him in place.

Did Taeyong think he was adopting a pet? Love wasn't a small animal you could buy from a store during biannual sales. This was serious— real. Relationships took effort; they took more than they gave sometimes, and you had to be willing to deal with that. Taeil and Ten hadn't tried so hard for so long just to make it look like some kind of cake walk.

The hard part was that somewhere deep down, Taeil was falling for it. Of course he didn't _want_ it to be so hard. Ideally, it would be easy, but people were complicated. Life was complicated. Didn't Taeyong understand that?

“I’m in love with you, _hyung_ ,” Taeyong said again. He was within an arm's length now, and just as Taeil realized this, Taeyong reached forward and took Taeil’s hands in his lightly, giving Taeil a soft glance, asking permission.

The reason Taeil couldn’t pull away was that he didn’t want to.

“I’m in love with you,” Taeyong repeated, and Taeil’s heart fluttered for a moment, skipping a beat as if in slow motion, and a surge of blood rushed through his arms and hands and all the way up to his ears, which were flushing under the attention. “And I want to go on dates with you and kiss you and spend the rest of my life with—“

“Stop, stop,” Taeil said in a rush of air, jerking his hands away from Taeyong’s to wave them in front of his face. “I get it.” Taeil pulled his hands back into small hesitant fists and stared down at his nails. “I just... I still don’t have an answer for you yet.”

“That’s okay,” said Taeyong, leaning against the counter.

Taeil looked up. “It is?”

Taeyong nodded. “That’s... that's an answer in itself, you know," he said. His hands were twitching, like they ached to touch again, and it was all Taeil could do to stop himself from rushing forward and pulling Taeyong into his arms after all of this. It was what he always wanted to do when Taeyong got in a bitter fight with Yuta or Doyoung, and it hurt that he couldn't now, just because it was about Taeil himself this time, just because it wasn't really a fight but rather a cavity in space, someone being where the other person couldn't be, two people agreeing to meet up but just missing each other by onus of a lack of words or a delayed second. Taeyong then added, "It’s better than you just running out of the room the other day.”

Taeil, exasperated, threw his hands up. By the light of the morning, Taeyong’s thin mouth curled into a grin carved in resolve. “What am I supposed to do when you spring something like that on me?” wailed Taeil softly.

Taeyong laughed. And when he laughed, the entire world lightened. Gravity lifted, and the earth's revolution around the sun went a little slower. And the little puffs of air huffing out of Taeil’s nose turned into small giggles, too, until they were both laughing and balancing the space between them, tossing it back and forth to each other and losing little bit of that heaviness with each exchange.

Taeyong was the kind of person who didn’t want to be a leader but had every quality that would make him a good leader. Or perhaps it was precisely because he didn’t want to be a leader that he would make a good one. The duality of Taeyong. But without those opposing qualities, he wouldn't be who he was today. He was as naive as he was prophetic. He was as rooted to this world as he was magical. 

“That’s why I’m sorry,” Taeyong said, and Taeil squeezed his lips together into a pout. “For surprising you, I mean. For hurting you. I'm sorry for that.” Taeyong turned his head to look down at the counter, and that was when Taeil noticed how red the back of his neck was. “But I don’t regret loving you,” he continued. “I’d never apologize for that.”

—

It was hard to remember exactly what had been said when Taeil tried to recount the events of that morning to Ten later that day on the phone. “He said we were a package deal,” said Taeil. “But I was kind of too shocked to process that.”

“Oh, that cute little fucker,” Ten murmured in wonder after a pause.

“So... basically, he knows,” Taeil said, and Ten snorted.

“Not only does he know, he knows how good we are together,” said Ten. Taeil could almost see him picking at his fingernails in amusement on the other line.

“Why would he tell me?” Taeil said, picking at the carpet between his legs. He was sitting cross-legged on the living room floor, waiting for someone to make some edible food. Taeyong was still on his mission to deftly avoid everything until they sorted this out, and the housekeeper had the day off today. Jaehyun would probably get hungry first, so Taeil was banking on him. “I don’t understand.”

Ten sighed, and that in itself was comforting. “ _Hyung_ , have you ever heard of polygamy?”

Ten’s question sent the background thought that Taeil had purposely hidden there hurtling to the front of his mind like a catapult. It wasn’t that Taeil loathed the idea; actually, shoving too-hopeful delusions to the back of his mind came as a habit, and that wouldn’t be inaccurate for this case, either. The logistics of such a solution also seemed too unfeasible to let himself dwell on for more than a few moments. “Yes,” Taeil said stupidly.

There was another pause, then Ten laughed. It was light and airy like the rest of him, but with a slight edge. Taeil didn’t love those laughs. Well, he loved everything about Ten, but to say that those kinds of laughs made him nervous was an understatement. “ _Hyung_ , say something,” Ten said, sounding maybe a little nervous himself. “We could try... like, I don’t mind having to— work things out, you know? I just..." he trailed off, leaving the phone to crackle.

Taeil wanted so desperately to tell Ten that everything would be okay. He wanted desperately to dive headfirst into something thrilling and hopeful and optimistic and all happy things at once, but he couldn't. He was 24 now, and life didn't work that way, and making decisions without accounting for all the possible consequences of those decisions was a recipe for disaster, even if everyone was ready and willing to dive in with him. He couldn't let himself be reckless, especially when everyone else was.

God, being responsible was so hard. How did Taeyong do it all the time? There were so many things happening, so many possible consequences. There was the suspicion that maybe Ten was a little too eager about this. And then there was Taeil's pressing guilt for even letting that thought cross his mind because Ten had been nothing but accommodating the past few days, had shown nothing but unconditional support and devotion to him. There was that small voice in the back of Taeil’s mind that wanted Ten to be jealous, possessive, seized with anger, because that was what commitment was supposed to look like, according to movies and dramas and those sensational relationship posts on the deep Internet. And then there was wanting to take the chance: the best-case-scenario of being able to have both Ten and Taeyong and not have someone (Taeil himself, most likely) fuck it up like they inevitably would.

Taeil was unraveling. The knots in his feelings-yarn from earlier that morning were undoing themselves too quickly now, leaving him to unravel and roll across the tile floor and melt into the infrastructure, spread out too thin like liquid. He was so used to denying himself the right to be happy. He could always rationalize it with the omnipotent pretense of logic. The problem with this was that he no longer knew how to differentiate between realism and unnecessary pessimism. Plus the fact that he was now almost always miserable when left to atrophy in the deepest recesses of his brain.

“I’m scared,” Taeil whispered.

Ten was quiet, and suddenly the dorm felt empty, even though everyone was there in their own rooms. There was this insurmountable distance between Taeil and everyone else, because it wasn’t like they knew or could help. It would all come down to the same thing, anyway: he had to make a decision himself at some point. It just felt like every decision he’d made prior to this was suddenly completely inconsequential, like he had no prior experience getting through something like this. He felt like a baby being tossed in a pool. Any step he took would tear him apart from the inside out.

“I know,” Ten said finally, and Taeil sniffled.

“Ten, I don’t think this is a conversation we should be having on the phone,” he said.

Here came the waterworks. Crying seemed kind of futile at this point, but his eyes were watering and he was getting that sneezy feeling. A tear slipped out without warning.

Ten, sensing it, said, “Okay.”

Taeil made a loud sniff, letting out a shaky breath, thinking that Ten had hung up.

“ _Hyung_?” Ten said suddenly, quietly.

“Hm?” replied Taeil, his lips smashed together in embarrassment.

This wasn’t anything to cry about. In the grand scheme of things, it wasn’t even that bad. Ten and Taeyong, creatures both gorgeous beyond belief, thinking he was something worth risking a lot for. That was nothing to cry over, but for some reason, the tears kept threatening to spill.

“Love you,” Ten said quietly.

—

Ten returned much later with a pack of Cherry Coke and butter chips. He was wearing his hood over his head; he’d been listening to music on the way back, which he only did this late at night when he was particularly distraught. Taeil was waiting up for him in the living room, masquerading as something out of a horror movie, curled up in a ball under a ratty tasseled throw, his face illuminated by just the light of his phone. His eyes were simultaneously puffy and hollow. It was one of those sleepless nights, where he’d passed out from exhaustion at about 7pm, and was now wide awake like 6 hours later. He looked like a hot mess, having expended all available energy on some unnecessarily dramatic outpouring of regret, frustration, and relief in a bit of a silent cry fest earlier, and now it was like he couldn’t even muster up enough energy to feel tired.

Ten stood at the doorway, and Taeil wasn’t going to play the silent game with him. He wasn’t even mad at him. He never had been.

“Hey,” Taeil said, standing up to trot over to Ten. The sight of his face alone was enough to lift the veil of grogginess.

Despite everything, Taeil loved him. Despite everything, this was love. Ten’s face, Ten’s existence being a rock for Taeil, keeping him grounded in a center of gravity no matter what way he’d been pulled by the powerful workings of destiny. Even after the day had been long abandoned in hopes just to get to that comforting beacon of sleep, Ten was there.

Ten thrust the snacks gruffly at Taeil, along with a little black bag. Inside it were those grip exercisers Taeil had been talking about ordering online for the past few days but hadn’t gotten around to it.

“I— you didn’t have to,” Taeil said uselessly, and Ten shrugged.

“I’ve had them for a while,” he replied, and Taeil couldn’t tell if he was lying or not. “Just waiting for the right time.”

He made it sound like an engagement ring when Taeil very well could’ve gotten them for himself, but Taeil left it at that. It was a sweet gesture. “I don’t think Jinyoung- _noona_ would be very happy about this,” Taeil said quietly, snapping open a can of soda and grinning, and Ten elbowed him in the arm.

“It’s just once in a while,” he said, still sulking a little. “Plus... I’m sorry.”

“Me too,” Taeil replied in a mumble.

“For making you cry,” Ten said. He still had his hood over his face, and when he looked up, his eyes were pained.

“You didn’t— it wasn’t you,” Taeil said, moving forward to put his hand on Ten’s arm. “I mean, it was, but because you’re so— I love you so much.”

Ten let out a breathy, relieved laugh. He moved to wrap his arms around Taeil’s waist, and to Taeil, who was in just a t-shirt and boxers, Ten felt like a blanket. He felt like home. “Happy tears,” Ten said, and Taeil nodded into his shoulder, burying his face into where the crook of Ten’s neck met his hoodie.

After a few minutes, Taeil pulled away, the soda quickly starting to go flat. “Can we try again?” he said softly, and Ten shoved his hands in his pockets.

“Try what?” he said, and Taeil sighed.

“The... this whole thing,” he said, waving his hands around vaguely until they landed on Ten’s shoulders. Before Ten could object, Taeil added, “The part with Taeyong, I mean. Not _everything_.”

Ten looked at Taeil curiously, and then took Taeil’s wrist and dragged him down onto the sofa. “I... I wanna know why you’re scared,” said Ten.

_I don’t know_ was Taeil’s knee jerk reaction and probably what he would’ve said had it been anyone else asking him, even Taeyong. “I—,” he started, but couldn’t get the words out. Somewhere in there, he did know. It was a ghost of a reason that kept escaping his conscious thought process. “Why are you _not_ scared?” Taeil countered. It was so natural to be scared, especially of something so monumental and novel. But elephants were equally as monumental and novel, and they didn’t elicit the same kind of reaction. Holidays, too. No, it was something larger than that. Larger than which dick went in which hole, or could they all fit in a twin sized bed. Three was a weird number. It was asymmetrical; it implied imbalance. But it was also strong. Triangles could withstand anything.

“I mean,” Ten said with an obvious shrug, “I have you.”

Taeil rolled his eyes and elbowed Ten, and the tense, wound up cage that was his stomach softened a little amid laughs.

“I’m serious, though,” said Ten, stopping a tickle war by lacing his fingers with Taeil’s, and Taeil couldn’t help but be pulled in. Not that he didn’t want to be. “I know I’m not alone.” Ten scooted close so that their shoulders were touching and Ten was resting his forehead and closed eyes on Taeil’s shoulder. “You’re a very comforting person to be around, you know.”

“I am?” Taeil said, and Ten snorted.

“Give yourself some credit, _hyung_.”

Taeil’s inner reality was the opposite of comforting. It was never knowing if you had left the stove on or not. It was that moment of panic when you couldn’t find your wallet. It was jolting yourself awake because you dreamed that you were falling. It sometimes felt like the world was moving around him too quickly and he was the only thing out of rotation, struggling to keep up, to feign the illusion that he was right there with everyone else.

But Ten wanted to be there with him. Ten would all at once pull him along, run ahead to catch up with the others, let him walk at his own pace, and then come back to check on him and make sure he was okay, and maybe even stop to smell the roses on the way. The promise of coming home to a mind space that felt like a real _home_ rather than a weight that needed to be dragged along everywhere made life that much more livable.

“We don’t have to start over,” said Ten, rubbing the back of Taeil’s hand with his thumbs. “We just have to finish what we started.”

—

It wasn’t hard to arrange a meeting time for the three of them; even on the off chance that the others were home, they mostly kept to themselves. After all, no one questioned asking for a little privacy when they otherwise did everything together. And Taeyong arranged weird meetups all the time and no one could ever tell if it was for team building or collaborations or to whine about his sister not having called in a week, so they'd all made a collective decision to stop asking.

The way they were seated in Taeil’s room was almost comical; Taeil sat near the pillows, Ten perched at the foot of the bed— they had discussed this so as not to intimidated Taeyong— and Taeyong was in the office chair with his legs wrapped around the back like he was feigning casualty by going through the motions but completely lacked the delicate touch required to pull off such a feat. He buzzed with a scared but hopeful energy that just seemed to strengthen itself as the seconds passed. The edges of him blurred in the afternoon light.

“So, we’ve decided,” Ten said, slapping his hands on his knees, “that we want to give you a try.”

“You can’t just say—“ Taeil stammered. “This isn’t— what he means is, we’re dating,” he said, motioning between himself and Ten for clarification, “but I— it hurts to think about losing you.”

“We figured you confessed to Taeil- _hyung_ because you were willing to try this out,” said Ten. His eyes narrowed to the point where you couldn't tell if he was joking or serious. Or maybe that was because he looked too menacing in those moments to fully confront the implications of him being serious, so you hoped for your life that he was joking. “I mean, if you're not, then spare yourself the punch in the face and walk out right now.”

“No, I— you’re right,” Taeyong said quickly, trying to meet Ten’s gaze. It was like a small mouse squaring up against a semitruck, despite the two of them being more or less similar in physical stature. Taeil would’ve laughed if he weren’t so compromised by anxiety. “I do want to try.” Taeyong wrung his fingers, looking forlorn but determined. “But I can’t promise it won’t hurt.”

Taeil glanced quickly at Ten, but he was calm. “Good to know you’re realistic, _hyung_ ,” Ten said, crossing his legs and leaning on his elbows. “You know the one most likely to be hurt is you, right?” He said this so bluntly that it was chilling, even though it wasn’t directed at Taeil. This side of Ten was beautiful, though; not haunting, but protective. It was a voice that fought like a villain but espoused a justice that no one else could tolerate the ill will of fighting for. Of course, this came out on a very occasional, selective basis. The Ten stationed outside closed doors was still honest, but without the biting threat of cold-blooded assassination.

Taeyong nodded. “I— I know.”

“And you still want to try?” Taeil blurted out all of a sudden. Because for some reason, even after the months of experiencing the closest thing in the adult world to unconditional love, it was still so unbelievable that someone would risk almost everything they already had— friendship, comfort, their stone cold invulnerability, notwithstanding fame, fortune, and the works— to be with Taeil. Whether or not he was worth it no one could ever predict. To some, apparently he was. It would be unfair to blame Ten and Taeyong for their questionable taste in people, because what they’d brought into his life was worth so much more than that.

“Of course,” Taeyong replied. He looked at Taeil, his eyes dazzling with intention. “Of course,” he repeated, softer. “To... to love and have lost is—“

“Yeah, yeah,” said Ten, staring at Taeyong hard for a moment. He then said to Taeil, “Taeyong- _hyung_ is tough. He can handle it.”

Later, across the corner of the big glass coffee table in the living room, Ten continued, “Just worry about yourself, baby.”

“I am!” Taeil replied defensively, and Ten laughed. Taeil was sprawled across the long couch, his feet only able to touch the end if he stretched his toes out obnoxiously, and Ten was sitting on the loveseat next to it, doodling on some old department store catalogs.

“You think you are, but you aren’t.”

Taeyong had asked to kiss Taeil to close out their conversation that afternoon, to which Ten replied that he didn’t need to ask. The kiss, with Ten watching only because he didn’t have anything better to do in that room, was charged like a thunderous cloud or an overdue argument. Maybe it was the tension that made it so hard for Taeil to extract himself from the inevitable.

So he didn’t. The _can I kiss him_ and Ten’s ensuing _I dunno, ask him_ were a blur, but Taeyong’s, “Is this okay?” was clear as day. Taeil was fully sentient when he nodded. The moment was so intense that Taeil couldn’t possibly hold Taeyong’s gaze, so he looked at lips instead, which were neither plump nor kissable. His eyes, which normally drew Taeil in, were closed. A few stray hairs were starting to grow in around his eyebrows. The scar next to his right eye faded in and out of view as he stepped closer.

It was in his entire presence, when he was finally unthinkably close to Taeil, that his physical features began to fade away and the essence that was undeniably Taeyong drifted into sight. He was gentle but stern, stable in a way that was not natural to his personality but rather years and years of resilience built to protect what he believed to be a hollow shell of a soul. In that, though, Taeil saw, and all the other members saw, a magical and prophetic ability to _bear_ — to listen and hold the weight of so much responsibility, and that in itself made up the vibrant personality he thought he so lacked.

Comforting Taeyong on any given day was near impossible. Depending on what it was that was bothering him, he'd need weeks, maybe years to work though it, and no one but Taeyong himself could help him along with that. But Taeil wanted at least to be a beacon, maybe a light Taeyong could crawl toward when the burdens were too much for him alone. Ten, on one side, could be the rock that held them steady as Taeyong drifted aimlessly through the wind long enough until he’d somehow stumble upon purpose. That was what always happened, and it seemed to turn out okay.

So Taeil was the one who surged forward suddenly and captured Taeyong’s lips. Being as thin as those lips were, this was not a difficult task. He faintly registered Ten’s hum of surprise and approval in the background.

Taeil’s hands went to clutch at Taeyong’s hair, and Taeyong’s settled on his waist, firm but gentle but wanting. It was not hard to continue nipping at Taeyong’s lips, and opening his mouth for Taeyong just a little came naturally. When Taeyong’s tongue tickled the roof of Taeil’s mouth, Taeil pulled away with a sly grin, a little breathless.

“Okay,” Ten interjected loudly and all of a sudden, clapping his hands together. The noise jolted Taeil and Taeyong apart, not that either of them had ever forgotten Ten was there. Taeil hadn’t, at least; the knowledge that he was watching made it all the more exhilarating. A mere touch of lips with gentle, hen-like Taeyong wouldn't have been nearly as intense if Ten’s presence hadn’t been there, shooting its fiery little pulses under Taeil’s skin and all over his body. “Okay,” Ten repeated, standing up. “Well, now I’m hard. Which would be great if the kids weren’t coming over for hotpot in like 20 minutes.”

Taeyong laughed the tension out of his shoulders. He was still visibly intimidated by Ten in this particular space, but he was trying hard not to be. “Another time?”

“Soon, I hope,” Ten replied, and after noticing that both Taeil and Taeyong were looking to him pathetically for guidance, he sighed. “Okay, clear your schedules, nerds.”

—

They ended up booking a hotel because doing it at home would be too conspicuous, no matter how hard they tried, with their schedules, and people entering and leaving the dorm at will, and how long it would likely take to even get comfortable enough with each other to reach a workable state of undress.

A nice hotel, at least, had been Taeyong’s one awkwardly made request. The three of them had known each other for years, but this felt like meeting for the first time again. In a way, it was: a different vantage point could change the landscape of even the stillest vista. But it felt like, since Taeyong and Ten had joined the company earlier, Taeil was the driving point of a wedge between them.

So that was what was milling about Taeil’s mind as he lied down and wiggled his toes with a towel over his forehead and his stomach gurgling from the nerves.

“What are you thinking about?” Ten said, as if on cue. They had pretty much established this pattern by now: Taeil retreating into his self-defeating hole of a mind and Ten digging him out with a question intended to ground him. The rule was Taeil couldn’t say nothing or _I don’t know_. Of course there were loopholes, but it was actually easier to play along. The trust they shared was suspended along a wire so strong that it revealed to Taeil this was what he had wanted all along. It was rare that people who really cared even asked. He didn't want to be alone. To share the burden of unrequited fear with someone who didn’t even have to understand, only had to tell him that it would be okay, was the home Taeil had needed all this time.

“I feel like it’s my fault,” Taeil said to the ceiling with his hands folded across his stomach.

“What's your fault?” said Ten.

“I don’t know, all of it. All of this,” Taeil replied, and Ten hummed.

“It can’t be,” he said in that overly cheerful voice of his he used sometimes when he knew he was right. It kind of made Taeil want to kick him. “It’s not a fault.”

“Huh?” Taeil said, and Ten laughed.

“Has it ever occurred to you, _hyung_ , that people actually _want_ to spend time with you?”

“I— you—“ Taeil started, then went quiet with a small noise of protest. After a short while, he said, “Of course, otherwise why would they hang around?”

“See?” said Ten, looking up to jab his finger gently in Taeil’s direction, and Taeil leaned forward to bite at it. “You say you do, but you don’t!”

Taeil gritted his teeth and made a throaty noise. How did Ten know him better than he knew himself? How could Ten pick out the things Taeil refused to acknowledge about himself as easily as if they were freckles on his arm, lying in plain sight? In a way, it was strangely relieving.

“Are you mad?” Ten said after a moment, staring meticulously at Taeil’s face.

Taeil formed a smile and shook his head. Ten knew he wasn’t mad, but he always liked to check anyway. He liked asking Taeil questions and reveling in the fact that he was the only one who could consistently make Taeil answer them.

“Good, I didn’t think you’d be,” Ten said.

“Stupid,” said Taeil while shying away, thinking Ten was going to poke him again, but Ten grabbed his chin rather suddenly and pressed their lips together in a kiss. Taeil jolted a little in surprise, but it wasn’t an unwelcome feeling. The shock of the softness of Ten's lips along with the firm grip he had on Taeil’s face made Taeil shiver and sent something straight down to his groin which was, once again, unexpected but not entirely unwelcome.

“You’re okay, though, right?” Ten mumbled against Taeil’s lips. “Should we reschedule?”

“I’m fine,” Taeil breathed. He reached up and threaded his fingers through Ten’s hair and arched his back to get better access to Ten’s lips. “You know I always get like this.”

“I love you for it,” said Ten, kissing the corner of Taeil’s mouth.

“And I have no idea why,” Taeil replied.

Ten laughed and got up to sit on the edge of Taeil’s couch to move closer, get a better angle. “I don’t care,” he said as Taeil sat up begrudgingly, and he pulled Taeil in for another kiss.

They had booked an AirBnB, which was Ten's idea. A hotel was too visible, and the walls were too thin. And AirBnBs ended up actually being cheaper, but that meant a long car ride into the outskirts of the city during which Taeil glued himself to the window while Ten massaged his leg. Taeyong was coming straight from practice and would meet them there, but there were some things they needed to discuss, and Taeyong was doing a fantastic job of avoiding them once again, whether or not it was intentional.

“This... this Taeyong behavior really has to stop,” Ten mused once they were finally inside. After years of coming home to someone showering, someone playing music, the crash of video game noises in the background, the jingles of dishes colliding; the silence in the empty building was jarring. It was a condo that was originally a house that got split down the middle vertically into two units, one with a ground-level bedroom and the other with the bedroom on the second floor. They chose the first of the two.

It was nestled into a neighborhood of similar looking buildings all lined up and close together with a few square meters as an excuse for a yard, gravel gardens and a bush or two. Inside, the condo was bigger than it looked, the two-story living room making the space seem open and noncommittal, furnished for people just passing by but camouflaged into the illusion of a home. Ten and Taeil sat cross-legged on the ground while waiting for Taeyong because the only couch was facing the TV, and it felt weird not to look up and see Ten facing him, looking back at him.

“Like, does he want to wear a condom? Did we even _bring_ condoms?” Ten said, and Taeil sighed, his phone in his lap.

“I told him,” Taeil replied. “He said he knows, he’s just nervous. And that he’s clean and he’s fine with whatever we decide.”

Ten rubbed his temples, and for some unknown reason, the ceiling fan clicked on. The two of them glanced at each other for a moment, alarmed, then burst into laughs that dissipated the tension in the room all the way up to the high ceiling where the fan blew it through the skylight into the evening air.

Taeil shuffled forward on his butt and put his hand on top of Ten’s. “Thank you,” he said softly, and Ten hummed.

“For what?” he said. Taeil picked up Ten’s hand and held it in his, breaking their stares and looking down with a light flush.

“Doing this,” said Taeil. The rug they sat on was stringy and plush, different colors of yarn springing up between Taeil's ankles.

“I love you,” Ten replied. Taeil jerked his head up and Ten smiled at him. Ten looked kissable just then. Not small, not vulnerable, but open— _waiting_ — in a space where he felt safe, where he felt he could be open. And Taeil was there— that must’ve been part of it, Taeil being there— to climb into his lap without another word and thread his fingers into Ten’s hair.

There was a moment when they paused and just looked at each other. Wordlessly, they both decided to stop their advances. Taeil’s breath caught in his throat, because Ten was beautiful. He was ethereal and his eyes were aglow with want, both of a romantic and sexual kind, the latter growing in urgency by the second. What was it about keeping this space between them for a lapse in time that made their motions so suddenly sensual?

Lust waited for no one. They were gripping each other as tight as they could over a tank top, a hoodie, a linen button-down tee, jean shorts, track pants, energy coursing straight into their fingertips that made their hands thrum to tug and pull and rip.

They kissed slowly anyway, so slowly that the moment before their lips touched, Taeil could feel the heat radiating from Ten’s skin and pulling him in, atom by atom. The final, _real_ skin-to-skin contact, the touch of lips, soft from the summer humidity, familiar in taste seemed to break this self-imposed spell of control. After that, their frenzy knew no bounds.

Ten rushed to undo the top two buttons on Taeil’s shirt clumsily before they both pulled back to tug their own shirts off. Ten’s body was familiar but still fresh to the touch. There was no point in questioning the workings of sexuality; something about touching Ten's skin, spreading his entire palm across a part of Ten's body and feeling how real and solid it was sent blood rushing to Taeil’s dick every time, and it only seemed to get stronger with practice.

They panted into each others’ faces, foreheads pressed together while Ten started working on Taeil’s jeans and Taeil slid his hands clumsily around Ten’s chest and shoulders and back, which were already starting to get clammy in the heat. Ten was turned on. When Taeil made a motion to stand up and move them into the bedroom, Ten tugged him down again by the hem of his shorts and mumbled, “Stay,” into Taeil's neck, and Taeil tilted his head to give Ten more room and moaned, submitting.

To make matters worse, Ten shoved his hand into Taeil’s unbuttoned shorts right then and palmed his dick until Taeil was rocking forward into it shamelessly, his chest sticking to Ten’s while his thighs slid and chafed in his shorts as he sandwiched Ten’s hand between them, begging for more, harder, anything.

When Taeyong arrived, he tried the unlocked door before knocking, which saved Ten and Taeil a trip to answer for him. For better or worse, Taeyong walked in to Ten groping Taeil’s ass hungrily and Taeil pushing back into it, and kisses so filthy and loud they almost didn’t hear the sound of the door opening.

“Holy shit,” Taeyong said just as Taeil was craning his neck to greet him, and Taeyong's dick started visibly stirring to life under his athletic shorts. It would’ve been comical if Ten weren’t sucking a dark hickey into Taeil’s neck even more harshly than usual, probably spurred by Taeyong’s presence in the room, as if Ten were affected by an animalistic instinct stimulating him to leave his mark before letting anyone else touch Taeil. Taeyong suddenly noticed his own predicament and scrambled to cover it for some reason. “I— I haven’t had sex in a while,” he said flatly, and Taeil laughed and squeaked when Ten sealed off the hickey with a quick nip and a kiss pressed flat and firm into the skin afterward.

Taeil slid off of Ten’s lap while Ten held his hand and gave it a squeeze. For whatever reason, the nerves affected Taeil more than Ten, maybe because what Taeyong saw of him now so dramatically broke expectations. Not that Taeil was quite as angelic in the dorms as fans probably made him out to be, but part of the thrill of what Taeil and Ten had built together was keeping the whole thing a secret. Out of anyone, the one who should know was Taeyong, but something still felt precarious about it, like tipping over a bucket of water that would all wash out in a matter of seconds.

“Hi,” Taeil said meekly, and something in his face or tone turned Taeyong into a flustered mess, his normally dark and brooding eyes wide open and looking everywhere but at Taeil, his ears reddening, and his mouth soundless and agape. Taeil took a breath and demanded, “Kiss me like you did the other day.”

“Y-yeah,” said Taeyong, taking a small step closer. This seemed to calm him down, as if seeing Taeil up close reminded him that they’d known each other for years, that he had nothing to fear, that this was the Taeil who welcomed him into his arms whenever he needed, this was the Taeil who walked around the dorms naked at 2am looking for milk tea or sprawled all over the couch reading 9 month old tabloid magazines and still couldn’t take up more than 3/4ths of the space. This was small, warm Taeil, the one he was inconceivably but inevitably in love and lust with.

Taeyong took Taeil’s face in his one hand and pressed the other to Taeil's hip as if he were a high schooler taking Taeil to prom instead of an internationally acclaimed idol standing in an AirBnB in suburban Seoul with the door half open kissing his 24 year old friend with his other bandmate and said friend’s boyfriend watching the exchange with a look of half lust half menace. They were really quite the three’s-company. Taeil closed his eyes and leaned into Taeyong’s hand with a soft smile, and that was when Taeyong gained the courage to lean forward and kiss him, very much unlike how they were kissing that other day, but it was okay; he was trying, and they’d get there.

Taeil was the one who first started moving his lips slowly, pulling and nipping at Taeyong’s upper lip, and Taeyong followed, succumbing to a natural position with his lips around Taeil’s plush lower lip, touch as gentle as the wing of a bird. When they pulled apart, their lips still touching, they let a few breaths blow between them, spending more time than actually kissing taking in what it was like to have the other so close in a way that was so sensual.

When Taeil laced their fingers together and pressed himself flush against Taeyong’s body, Taeyong started getting more insistent. Letting out a low growl from the back of his throat that sounded subconscious, Taeyong pulled off Taeil’s lower lip and kissed him square on, open-mouthed and wet, sucking all the air out of Taeil before pulling away and kissing him hard, again and again.

A warmth met Taeil from behind, and it was Ten, cool and damp skin under a blanket of heated air, wrapping his arms around Taeil’s torso like those mornings when Taeil was making tea by the counter and Ten could sneak in a couple displays of affection before it was real. Except now neither of them were wearing shirts, and Taeil sucked in a gasp when Ten held him and rolled his hips against Taeil’s, grinding his dick against Taeil’s ass, layers of jeans and briefs between them. “Want you so bad, baby,” Ten whispered, loud enough for Taeyong to hear, and Taeyong made a noise of agreement. “You’re so pretty like this, being touched and worshipped, pretty pretty pretty.”

When Ten palmed Taeil’s dick through his jeans again, Taeil’s hips fluttered in indecision and his knees buckled; Taeyong held him up by the waist and showered him with kisses, mumbling, “Bedroom,” between them, fitting in syllables wherever he could.

“Yes,” Taeil gasped, breaking off of Taeyong to turn to Ten and kiss him, backing him into the closed door and turning the knob with a surprising amount of urgency.

Nevertheless, it was Taeil who let himself fall back against the bed, and when he moved to turn onto his hands and knees, Ten stopped him with a hand on his thigh. “Just let us admire you for a bit, dear,” he said with a wicked but cute little grin, and Taeil sighed and fell open. Ten looking at him and taking in anything he could fathom from Taeil’s body was normal and familiar, but when Taeyong stumbled in, having lost his shirt along the way, Taeil was suddenly very aware of how bright it still was in the room. He noted the sweat that settled in a fine sheen across his own skin, how his hair was probably a mess and matted against his head, the way the skin on his legs twitched in waves with the slightest shift in his muscles.

Taeyong seemed entranced by it, tracing every single dip and bend in Taeil’s body with his eyes until Taeil was flushing under his scrutiny.

“Doesn’t he look good?” Ten said softly, tracing the inside of Taeil’s thigh, and Taeyong was practically salivating.

“Yes,” Taeyong responded, his voice hoarse.

When Ten kneeled on the bed, he had the lube in hand. “Wanna help?” he said, turning to Taeyong, and Taeyong blinked, looking like a deer in the headlights.

He backed away a few steps until he stumbled into an armchair in the corner of the room. “Can you...?” he said, and Ten looked at him curiously and shrugged.

“Your loss.”

And there was almost nothing Ten loved more than prepping Taeil. It was one of the magical experiences of anal, he always said. Prep wasn’t just a means to an end; it was a process in itself, and anyone had to accept and appreciate it before they could ascend to the status of power gay. Ten definitely got off on the organic way he’d move his fingers in any which direction and like clockwork, Taeil would squirm and moan in response, his legs twitching around Ten’s hands. And where his fingers couldn’t reach he’d use a thin but long dildo, but he wasn’t shy about teasing Taeil just to frustrate him and feel the throbbing of his ass, clenching and trying to suck Ten in further until Taeil was on his forearms sobbing into the mattress.

Today, Taeil was lying on his back, holding his thighs to his chest because Ten wanted to see his face. The dildo came out this time, too. “Cursed with short fingers,” Ten said, and Taeyong laughed nervously, his hand twitching as he watched Ten’s finger disappear into Taeil with a slick, heady noise. “Go on,” said Ten with a wave of his free hand. “You can touch yourself.”

A surge of pride rushed through Taeil, and he rolled back onto Ten’s fingers, which Ten definitely felt. Unfortunately, Ten’s hand was stuck as deep as he could go so all he could do was slap Taeil’s thigh, tugging a yelp out of Taeil.

“Be patient, baby,” said Ten, and Taeyong groaned from somewhere off in the distance.

“Don’t wanna,” mumbled Taeil, and he gritted his teeth and let out a frustrated grunt when Ten pushed another finger into him without any real satisfaction. The stretch hurt good though; being spread hurt good.

Ten groaned and twisted his fingers in Taeil’s ass roughly, and Taeil moaned into the air, loud and already pathetically desperate. Taeyong watching from across the room and panting heavily as he got himself off was hot. As Ten fingered him deftly, Taeil couldn’t help his mind from flickering to the thought of being ordered onto his hands and knees, Taeyong in front of him, fists twisted in Taeil’s hair, dick hot and heavy in front of his lips, goading him on to just take it all in one go, swallow it.

“Taeyong, please,” Taeil whined, and Ten hummed, pulling his fingers out and pressing Taeil’s shoulders firmly into the mattress so that his back arched prettily while he swiveled his hips stared up at Ten, whose hair was hanging into his eyes, wild with arousal.

“Who do you want, baby?” Ten mumbled, digging his fingertips into Taeil’s hips and leaving wet little bruises. Taeil whined, unable to answer. He needed to hold out long enough for both of them, but with Ten teasing him like this, it was going to be near impossible. “Do you want Taeyong- _hyung_ ’s cock?”

Taeil nodded with his face flushed and buried sideways into the pillow. God, yes, he wanted it bad. It didn’t matter what it looked like or how he had it, he just needed Taeyong filling him up somehow, right now.

"Hands and knees," Ten said in a strained voice, and Taeil obeyed, scrambling, reveling in how Ten leaned over Taeil as soon as his knees hit the mattress. Ten's unbuttoned shirt fluttered around their bodies, and his chest pressed against Taeil’s back hotly. “Look at him,” he whispered against the shell of Taeil’s ear, which turned red under Ten’s assault. Taeil turned to where Taeyong was sprawled across the armchair, his legs spread and pants pulled halfway down, dick pried out of his underwear and flattened hotly against his stomach, glistening with lube as he stroked it and squeezed and thumbed the tip, his gaze locked on Taeil.

The attention made Taeil whimper and turn back into the sheets lest he come then and there, untouched with Ten kissing his nape slowly and Taeyong thinking about god know’s what, getting off to some variation of Taeil being fucked. Even if Taeil was closing his eyes now, the image was already there: Taeyong looked like a fucking wreck, and Taeil wanted him to come apart while fucking Taeil, to lose any semblance of the control he so often had and fuck Taeil until the come was dripping down his thighs. “Taeyong,” Taeil whispered at the thought, and Taeyong groaned roughly, the sound of his hand, wet with lube, jerking himself with renewed desperation amplified in Taeil’s ears.

“Look at how much he wants you,” Ten continued, and Taeil cried out in response. Ten rocked him forward against the mattress until the bed creaked, but his dick nestled between Taeil’s ass cheeks was so unsatisfying. Taeil felt open, strangely empty like everything inside him was miles apart, and the friction from Ten’s pants rubbing against his perineum made him tremble and clench around nothing. As if on cue, Ten thumbed around Taeil’s rim gingerly. He pushed just the tip of his thumb in, as if to keep Taeil waiting and banking on what little satisfaction that gave him. “ _Hyung_ , come here,” Ten said.

There was a pause, and then Taeil heard Taeyong shift, stumble over himself awkwardly to rid himself of his pants and socks, and when Ten squeezed Taeil’s waist, beckoning for him to lift himself upright onto his shins, it felt like Taeyong was being thrown under him from the force with which he dropped on his back onto the bed.

Being basically face to face with Taeyong sent a new round of shivers down Taeil’s limbs, and he just wanted to kiss him again and again, sloppy dirty kisses that were bordering on pornographic, wanted to make him come just by grinding down onto his dick.

Ten, of course, had other, more satisfying ideas. They could save that for a quickie in the dorm. Ten reached around and tugged on Taeil’s dick, drawing a sharp gasp out from him and making him arch forward into the touch because he was already surprisingly close. “I want you to ride him, can you do that for me, baby?” Ten said lowly, and Taeil moaned, his eyes fluttering closed as he nodded fervently.

Taeil scrambled to straddle Taeyong’s hips as Ten crooned into his ear approvingly, and Taeyong’s hands snapped to Taeil’s hips and held on tight. His eyes followed Taeil’s every movement with a dark, gentle authority that was half dazed like he didn't know what he’d gotten himself into but was going through it like a lucid dream and he wanted to make the most of it. There was no telling if Taeyong would wake up tomorrow remembering this or not, even though he was fully sober.

Taeyong inhaled sharply when Taeil reached behind himself wrapped his hand around Taeyong's cock. The tip was already wet with lube or come or something, and Taeil smeared it around his own rim and ass, biting his lip while looking down at Taeyong, straight into his eyes. “God, please just—“ Taeyong groaned, squeezing his eyes shut and bucking his hips, and Ten fucking _giggled_. Taeyong’s dick slipped up against Taeil’s ass and Taeyong keened, gasping for more. When Taeil finally guided Taeyong’s dick into him, the tip breaching his rim bit by bit, Taeyong rasped out, “Holy _shit_ ,” furrowing his eyebrows and biting down on his lip. His short nails started clawing little welts into Taeil’s hips, but it only made Taeil want to sink further into it, onto the delicious burn. 

For how intense it felt— Taeyong was a little thicker than Ten— Taeil’s mind was awash with a strange sense of calmness as he looked down at Taeyong. It was like the eye of a storm, where the edges were alight with licks of flame, the slide of Taeyong’s dick against Taeil’s walls, the _yes, just like that_ Ten was murmuring into his ear. This was when he was at his most debased. He craved more.

“Fuck, _hyung_ ,” Taeyong groaned when Taeil bottomed out. Taeil’s nostrils flared with effort and beads of sweat dripped down his temples and into his eyes. Taeyong looked absolutely beautiful lying there, toeing the line between being completely at their mercy and having some modicum of willpower to fuck up into Taeil and make him scream. Either option sounded great.

“I have an idea,” Ten announced, and Taeil laughed breathlessly, leaning forward to rest his weight on his palms on Taeyong’s chest as Ten let him go and shuffled over toward Taeyong’s face. Ten leaned down toward Taeyong tantalizingly slow, and Taeil was glued to the sight. He couldn’t look away, not even when Ten was practically kissing Taeyong, his lips moving right against his, because Taeil had been in that position many times before, where the electric hum between their lips was doing everything to pull them together but Ten wanted to tease him just a moment more. “Let’s put that dirty mouth of yours to use,” Ten purred against Taeyong’s mouth, and Taeil could feel the twitch of Taeyong's dick inside him.

“Wha—?” Taeyong said kind of disoriented, still in a daze. Taeil couldn’t tell if the wetness along Taeyong's jawline was sweat or drool, but either way, his tone meant that he wanted, desperately, whatever Ten had to offer.

“I’m saying I want you to eat me out,” Ten said after pulling back a little, and Taeil couldn’t help the little gasp that he let out, also because Taeyong had shifted despite himself, driving a little deeper into Taeil. “Not that I wasn’t already planning that. I cleaned up and everything,” Ten continued, and Taeyong seemed to reign in his composure again for a few moments right then.

He looked Ten square in the eye and said, “Sit on my face,” and Ten laughed a familiar, delighted sound and clapped his hands together. He moaned prettily as he lowered himself, facing Taeil with his ass toward Taeyong’s face, and once again, Taeil couldn’t take his eyes off the sight. Taeyong’s hands stayed cemented to Taeil’s hips as if hanging on for dear life, and Ten made a surprised little noise and rocked his ass back onto Taeyong.

“Good boy,” Ten said, his eyelids fluttering shut, and Taeil made grabby hands for Ten’s hands, scrambling to lace their fingers together.

“Ten,” Taeil whined desperately, and Ten’s eyes snapped open just before he grabbed Taeil’s shoulders and hair and pulled him in for a harsh kiss. There was just enough space for them to lean forward into each other without losing their balance, and Ten seemed intent on devouring Taeil’s lips like this was his last meal on earth.

Taeil moaned right into Ten’s mouth when Taeyong snapped his hips up suddenly, and Ten followed with a sound of appreciation, taking one hand off Taeil’s shoulder to jerk himself off instead. Ten tasted delicious, familiar, while the angle Taeyong had in him was deeper than Ten could get when they fucked alone because they were always crawling all over each other to kiss and touch every exposed surface. But right now, it was just Ten, Ten’s presence everywhere, Ten overwhelming all of Taeil’s senses, while Taeyong was busy taking anything he could get. And Taeyong’s passive, sudden, desperate, almost spastic movements kept Taeil rocking back on his dick, physically begging for more. Because Taeyong either wanting him that much or enjoying giving up his last shred of dignity to get the chance to fuck both Ten and Taeil at the same time— both possibilities were equally as hot.

“M-more,” Taeil stammered as Taeyong started bucking his hips and pulling Taeil down to meet his every thrust.

“What’s that, baby?” Ten mumbled against Taeil’s lips, touching his face delicately.

Taeil whined and shifted closer to Ten, wanting to touch but unable to move much as Taeyong bent his knees and braced his feet on the bed, gripping Taeil’s hips hard and fucking up into him. “Ah— hah, _please_ ,” Taeil gasped. Taeyong’s cock sent searing pulses of pleasure through Taeil’s veins, clouding his head and traveling all the way down to his fingertips, making his hands shake to grab something.

“Words, use your words,” Ten cooed, likely very much appreciating how Taeil was _not_ using his words. Ten was letting out low moans of approval and rocking back whenever Taeyong did something with his tongue, and then bucking forward into his own hand, snug around his cock and jerking it off shamelessly.

“Ten,” Taeil gasped, because even though it was Taeyong’s movements and Taeyong’s body and Taeyong’s hands on him, all Taeil could think about was Ten. Maybe it was conditioning, or maybe it was the way Ten stared at him with that lidded gaze, looking like he wanted to completely wreck him. Taeil’s hands snapped forward suddenly and gripped Ten’s biceps as Taeyong hit his prostate at seemingly random intervals, teasing him with reckless abandon. “Ten, _Ten_ ,” chanted Taeil dazedly, and Ten groaned and came, tensing his muscles and drawing himself taut into a line that arched elegantly in the light. He was beautiful, and he was Taeil’s, and Taeil wanted every inch of him.

Taeyong moaned as Ten squeezed Taeyong's arms with his thighs as he came, and Taeyong started fucking up faster into Taeil, spurred on and demonstrating it in jerky, rough movements, and when they timed it right and Taeil pushed back against him as Taeyong fucked upward, it felt so good, Taeyong’s cock pressing deep into him. It was a consequence of having been fucked by Ten so many times now and memorizing subconsciously every detail of his fingers, his cock, that any minute difference felt like something entirely new and novel. Taeyong's movements had a bit of inexperience to him that betrayd his appearance, and he was someone Taeil wanted to dominate and be dominated by at the same time. He wanted to tell Taeyong how good he was being while riding his cock. He wanted to squeeze Taeyong’s face with his thighs while crying, desperately letting him eat him out. That must’ve been Ten’s thought as he came: how Taeyong wanted nothing more than to please them, and he did a damn good job at it too, and at the same time, he took what he wanted, unrelentingly.

Blearily, Taeil gazed at the mess in front of him. Ten was not cleaning up. Ten was sliding off of Taeyong's face in all his glory. Ten was not done. It was disarming how quick he recovered, actually. Whether or not that hurt Taeyong’s ego a bit might never be known.

In an instant, Ten was behind Taeil, pushing him forward and down gently with a warm hand, clammy from sweat and cum, and Taeil couldn’t be assed to care. If Ten had anything, he had stamina.

Taeil folded himself forward weakly so that his arms were resting where Ten’s knees had been, bracketing Taeyong’s shoulders and face, and suddenly Taeyong was right there, right in front of him, cheeks flushed and lips swollen from overuse and seeping red around the edges like smeared lipstick, and he was beautiful.

Right as Taeil surged forward to kiss him, Ten snuck the tip of a cold lubed finger against Taeil’s rim and pushed in.

Taeil yelped into Taeyong’s mouth and tensed up reflexively, but Ten rubbed circles into his hips and kissed and mouthed the space right under his tailbone, and Taeil melted into it, moaning when Ten started thrusting slowly.

Taeyong groaned with the friction of Ten's finger alongside his dick, and Ten hummed in approval. “You take us so well, baby boy,” he said, and Taeil shuddered, sucking on Taeyong’s tongue hungrily, desperately. Ten’s dirty talk, vague and lewd all at the same time, still praising Taeil in the best way possible, always made his brain disintegrate into little pockets of dust and clouds. Between the edges were spaces that thrummed with arousal and made the perimeter of the world go white until Taeil was pushing back against the two of them faster and faster, unconcerned with the creaking of the bed, the loud slapping of skin against skin, or that Ten had begun to stretch him with two fingers in addition to Taeyong’s dick. He curled them expertly, digging soft pads of skin into Taeil's walls, and Taeyong keened, trying to push into Taeil more.

“So tight,” Taeyong gasped, and Taeil pitched his head forward into Taeyong’s neck, rounding his back to give Ten a better angle and full view of his ass.

“Hng— let me come,” Taeil whimpered, bouncing on Taeyong’s dick best he could, and Ten helped with the leverage by nothing short of shoving his fingers in every time Taeil lifted up with strength enough to push Taeil’s body up until Taeil slammed down again, chasing his orgasm.

Taeil didn’t ever need Ten’s permission, but somehow asking for it made it all the more delicious, and Ten obliged him. “How bad do you want it, _hyung_?” he purred, stroking Taeil’s walls like a precious souvenir, and Taeil’s hips stuttered wildly in response, sweat making the same slow, sensual descent down the back of his neck as Taeyong’s fingers did when he finally moved his hands up to Taeil’s torso and pulled him down and started kissing him sweetly. The plush of his lips marked hot stains into Taeil’s own lips, and Taeyong took his time with it while his hips pistoned up into Taeil frantically.

“I—,” Taeil gasped, muffled by Taeyong’s mouth which wouldn’t let him be. Taeyong had a hand splayed out on the back of Taeil’s neck and one in his hair, holding him close and devouring his mouth greedily, and all Taeil could do was let out these pathetic noises. “I— please, Te—ah!” he whined, and Ten growled when the call of his name was cut off by Taeyong slamming into Taeil’s prostate and burying himself there with unbothered purpose. Tears pooled in Taeil’s eyes from the stimulation, and he gasped for air whenever Taeyong let him, like he couldn’t get enough to settle the knot in him driving him to seek that sweet release. “I— I’m gonna—“ rasped out Taeil, and Ten, with his free hand, reached around and jerked Taeil roughly while scissoring his fingers inside, stretching Taeil as much as possible.

“Come for me, baby,” Ten commanded, his voice low, and with a few gritty, tight jerks of his hand, Taeil wailed brokenly and came, his knees splaying out over the mattress and then squeezing back in against Taeyong’s waist, hips fluttering while his back arched like a bow, and he clenched around Taeyong while still riding him out, drawing low, loud groans and frenzied, sharp and forceful thrusts from Taeyong until he came too not long after.

Taeyong’s cum inside him felt both welcomed and disgusting against his skin, trickling down the insides of his thighs. Taeil shuddered violently, and Ten pushed his fingers in deeper, anchoring them there while Taeil rocked back against him softly and Taeyong’s cum dripped down his hand. And Ten’s other hand seemed to sooth Taeil even as Taeil kept coming in spurts; Taeyong twitched against his prostate until it was too much, everything sore inside him and hot to the touch and he was scrambling against Taeyong’s body, knees and legs floundering against the sheets until he finally managed to pull himself off and let himself melt against Taeyong’s chest.

Ten cooed while massaging the two little dimples in Taeil’s back that flanked his tailbone, and, in a response perfectly conditioned and miraculously soothing, Taeil’s muscles yielded into a soft pile of mush. He felt Taeyong smile weakly against his temple, and Ten adjusted himself until he was curled up against them, his forearms pressing against their sides. 

After a moment, Taeil turned his head away from Taeyong’s neck to face Ten. There wasn’t really anything to say, so he made a small noise, and Ten grinned back warmly at the image of Taeil’s cheek pressed against the mattress and his hair a fine mess. Ten’s hand wrapped around Taeil’s and squeezed, an unspoken acknowledgement of the boundless, unconditional adoration that Ten always promised. The motion itself and the momentary look in Ten’s eyes made Taeil blush in little tingly splotches all over his face. Ten smiled with his whole face at that, his eyes crinkling up at the corners as he tapped Taeyong’s hip and said, “Are you okay?”

“What?” Taeyong croaked, and Taeil snorted at his voice.

“I asked if you’re okay, nerd,” Ten repeated. He busied himself by wiping cum on Taeyong’s thighs, one finger at a time. Taeyong let him. It was his cum, after all.

“Fine,” Taeyong said to the ceiling, sounding gruff. Flustered, he quickly added, “Never better, actually. Wow.”

Ten laughed. His voice jingled as if he’d just finished a performance onstage. “What were you expecting, _hyung_?”

“We’re not vanilla,” Taeil added with his face smushed against the pillow.

“Not that vanilla,” Ten corrected and slapped Taeil’s ass unceremoniously. Taeil grunted. “There’s still some stuff I wanna do to you I haven’t told you yet, baby,” purred Ten, and Taeil, despite himself, let out a fluttery moan. “How about it? Too much?” Ten said to Taeyong.

He shook his head. “No. I’m— it’s good,” he replied. Taeyong was always so conservative in his replies, so perfect. When he didn’t know exactly what to say, he made some noncommittal phrase that somehow sounded right anyway. He took a breath deep enough to raise and lower his entire torso and Taeil too. The motion felt oddly ticklish, and Taeil let out a small, drunken giggle. “Maybe we can—“ Taeyong started, then bit his lip and changed his tone. “There will be a next time, right?”

“Oh, _hyung_ ,” Ten said dramatically, which made Taeil giggle more. Everything was sore and it kind of hurt to laugh, but for some reason it was all just hilarious. Whimsical. “We’re adventurous, but we’re not cruel.”

“I mean, you already gave me this—“ Taeyong started all bashful, and Ten shoved Taeil’s arm, mistaking it for Taeyong’s. Taeil squeaked and shoved him back.

“But just once? That would be cruel,” said Ten.

“No, it’s a gift,” Taeyong replied, and Ten pouted and shook his head adamantly.

“No, it’s cruel!” he said, and as Taeyong opened his mouth to bite back pettily, Ten clapped his hand over it. “I’m right because I’ve had more sex than you, and that’s that on that.”

“Gross, your hand is gross,” Taeyong complained, batting Ten’s away, and thenceforth ensued a slappy fight next to Taeil’s ear while Taeil felt his eyes closing slowly like little weights on a scale.

He woke up on his stomach to something wet and warm against his lower back, and he instinctively reached back to touch it. It was a towel, and Ten’s hand was resting on it, waiting for him. “Good morning,” Ten said with his amused voice from behind him. There was the low hum of running water somewhere, and Ten continued softly, “Taeyong is in the shower. Freak. He showered this morning. Doesn’t he know that’s bad for his skin?”

“How long was I asleep?” Taeil said, and Ten laughed and wiped the backs of Taeil's thighs with the towel gently. 

“Like 20 minutes.”

Ten nudged him with his hand to turn, and Taeil rolled over lazily, feeling like a sack of beans. “Shit, at home I would’ve been out for the whole night.”

“I know, right? Me too, even with how rowdy the kids are,” Ten replied.

It might be rowdy, but it was still home. “We should spare them the sound of us fucking,” Taeil said airily. Ten crawled up onto the bed and kissed him slow and deep and almost dirty, climbing on top of Taeil and framing his face with his forearms and elbows. The robe Ten was wearing fluttered open around them like a small tent, and Taeil pulled Ten down instinctively until they were skin to skin again. It felt safe having Ten like this, no matter where they were.

“So,” Ten said against his mouth. “How was it?”

“I like it,” Taeil replied immediately. The feeling of peace deep in his belly agreed. “I could lie here forever.”

“He’s good, right?” said Ten, and Taeil laughed and hit Ten’s chest lightly.

“Please, of course he’s good. You can’t write songs like that about fucking and not be good at fucking.”

Ten smiled. He was close, close enough for Taeil to see the shallow little lines under his eyes and the dots on his nose. Whether they were from exhaustion or just a natural part of aging was a mystery. Ten was perfect regardless— he was perfect because he was imperfect, because he had those things that made him so inexplicably Ten, because he was human and he was alive and the cells in his body maintained that aliveness by altering his appearance in ways that were natural and made a beautiful progression into a Ten who was even more beautiful with each passing day. And Ten hated it when Taeil worried and fretted about him, and Taeil hated the feeling worrying and fretting caused him, so they chose to trust each other’s choices and to love the people they chose to become, even if that person was riddled with pocks and worn down by the necessary sacrifices of chasing a dream.

Ten was relentless in his pursuit of more. Taeil had to accept that nothing he did or said could change that. Taeyong was the same way, so perhaps something about him just attracted people like that. If there was anything Taeil was good at, it was accepting the inevitable, and people like Ten and Taeyong seemed to sense that in him. “So you’re okay?” Ten said, and Taeil nodded with a smile he hoped looked reassuring.

“I should be asking you if you’re okay,” he said, “but I know you hate that.”

Ten closed his eyes and leaned in, nosing behind Taeil’s ear and breathing in a big whiff of smells, a smell Ten must've liked because he kept doing it, even as the months passed and their relationship became less novel. “Thank you,” Ten said. “Besides the sex, which was great, I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t... a little hard. Sharing you, I mean. I know I'm not supposed to think about it like that, but. I can't help it.”

Taeil hummed. “You’d tell me if you weren’t okay, right?”

“Of course,” said Ten. Taeil realized he could no longer feel where his own body ended and Ten’s began. He could feel the bathrobe around the both of them and the tie trapped between their legs and the mattress underneath them with the sheets still crumpled and askew, pressing imprints into their skin. But Ten’s chest on his was just a weight across his entire body enveloping him like a warm coat. It felt like being swaddled and brought him to this primal place where he was alone and yet completely engulfed by Ten, and love, and familiarity. “It’s not going to be perfect. I know that. One day at a time,” Ten said, pressing their foreheads together. “And today was good.”

“I’m glad,” Taeil replied.

**Author's Note:**

> Firstly, I wanted to apologize to everyone who has left comments on old fics and I take like 3 years to get back to you. I'm so sorry about that! I read them as soon as I get the email notifications, it just takes a while for me to respond.
> 
> Second, thank you so much for reading my work once again. This started out as a PWP prompt in my head and kind of took on a life of its own. The title is taken from the name of a temporary museum exhibit, I believe. I'm sorry it takes me so long to write, and I appreciate everyone sticking around. You all are very important to me! Thank you!


End file.
